Missing in Northview: Stranger Things
by zhelm
Summary: The beginning of the hardships on Zachary Jones and Kimmy-Chen Kimberly face through the anthastroma plague, the killing spree from an outsider, and Natual Disasters leaving aftermath for every living resident in the town of Northview. Will they survive through such of a unlucky society? Find out more!


**Missing in Northview**

 _ ***Chapter One: Stranger Things***_

Another day. Another life. They all resided in the loving and rendering village of Northview. Although the town's clarity and richness in people are in the most upright and deferenced as possible, but that never explains what actually happens around here. Everybody else in the vicinity seems like as if they were under a mystical happy spell every time the word "death" and then "the person's name" comes out of their mouth for gossip talks among the others even though they never feel any sort of pain or suffering when somebody dies while they sit there and gossip without agony.

Then there is me, Zachary Jones, the guy who everyone isolates, the guy who gets told how different I am since how the only person that was granted to get a anthastroma vaccination was me, the guy that wants to get out of this living murder spree. Funerals, showings, burials, I get used to the drill with how frequent the happy people die around here. As a secret central intelligence agency hacker, I usually find out a lot more things than what the federal government is actually telling all residents in the world about.

The one day I investigated the murders on the governmental websites, I came to find out that this town of awesome northview is dealing with three situations according to the recent autopsies that were recorded: A killing spree, a severe plague that only kills the people without the vaccination even though the other symptoms is for them being forced to be happy, and a global warming catastrophe headed right towards, of course, Northview. Here is me freaking out not knowing what to do, not knowing what to say, and how in the world am I going to get out of here without being questioned for murder and my delighted malaised parents just asking awkwardly out of wonderment of why I would leave the house and not feel no sad emotion about the situation. You would think that is a gumption sign of my parents ready for me to leave as a seventeen-year-old, but staying in a upbeat mood is one of the main symptoms.

"Mom? Dad? I'm home. We need to talk about a few things".

Absolute dead silence comes and evades the atmosphere of my home that I ever so loved growing up in. The gusty winds would rapidly open and shut the front door simultaneously as all of the windows in my house shattered to pieces. Every power accessible source here instantly shut off along with the nearby residents. There was also something very ominous I seen that night that looked like a huge vortex of wind which never stopped spinning in circles was right on the dead path to hit my house. As I walk down the steps of my very basement taking cover, I get the smell of very-processed copper warning me to turn around and stop walking. There happened to be a crowbar on the stairwell so I took advantage of what can happen with my life.

As I get a clear notice of what is happening, I start to become mentally unstable. Blood spots detailed most of the basement floor that almost seemed like random mud puddles, but pure red, and came right from these two moisturized boxes that were taped up. I took off all of the tape and finally opened to find out the loss of my parents was a real thing. The wounds on their chest look like they were even stabbed viciously with a long stainless steel kitchen knife. I hear harsh screams coming from mom's crafting room and it sounds like my adopted sister, Kimmy-Chen Kimberly. I ran as fast as I could over to the locked door of my "step-sister" scared for her life with not knowing what to do. Then, a shadow invades the same floor of the house I am. Brandon Wells, NBC-25 new reporter that is in his fifties shows up right behind me with a knife that looks like the stab wounds of my very own parents.

"Zach? I swear. I can explain that I did not do all of this. Lemme tell you somethin' sport, I was at my home when I found out that there was an F5 tornado coming straight for the Jones's house and everybody nearby. So I came here, in risk of my life to help you all take cover since how neither one of your parents called me back on time over the news report I am doing for them over the loss of a Morganio Solonia."

I interrupt, "Then why is my step-sister still locked in my mothers craft room and you are holding the murder weapon?"

"Yes that is the thing. I never came here to intrude the sudden loss of your family, I came to help you all. I seen blood all over the floor when I was taking shelter thinking you were already down here and I also seen the same kitchen knife hung up on the wall taped with a note".

"Can I see the note? Also let me ask you something old guy. Who let you in on the anthastroma vaccination? Don't you dare lie to me because emotional effects within a person tell me who and who has not taken the shot." I said.

"It……..it...it is in my pocket Zach would you like to see it?"

He realizes how much I am onto something. The train like noise sounds as if it is getting closer and closer to the Jones residence. The wall cracks open as if you watched random magic in your house occurring on its' own in thin air. I am hidden towards to the back of the wall praying to God that my life does not end today even with how bad of a wretched night I am having so far. The twister picks up the basement pole that Brandon once held onto and once the strong fierce wind took him up higher and higher in altitude, he was already gone. The tornado thankfully switched directions instead of heading South (path of where I was hiding under a desk by the wall) to NNE. The tornado left the house with sudden happiness and joy, like the rest of the people in this Northview.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Kimmy Chen says. Ever since she was adopted, she never lived in this english-speaking country since how she migrated from China overseas to get away from her parents as a very young teenager. When she settled in, we taught each other somehow to point and make word gestures and drawings to synthesize and remark what we are saying.

"Ok." I say. The only word she really knows to understand people like me. I bust open the locked torn door with the crowbar I held onto and once she came out, tears rushed out of her face. I gave her the sign language way of saying both of my parents died and somebody came here before me and killed them.

With her sign language reply, "I know who killed your mom and dad".


End file.
